


Keep

by alienswest



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence POV, Credence needs a hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Abuse, M/M, ddl - source of creation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8600686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienswest/pseuds/alienswest
Summary: He still doesn’t realize all he needs to do is ask.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asadeseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asadeseki/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Acceptance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8588749) by [newt_scamander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newt_scamander/pseuds/newt_scamander). 



> Many thanks to leonard_mccoy for sharing the incredible work. I wouldn't have come up with this without it.
> 
> This fic is beta'd by, and dedicated to dear seki, who lured me into this shipping with her beautiful translation.  
> Best friends ship cold together. <3
> 
> FIRST TIME slash writing. I just need to post it so I can continue with my tomorrow due. You get the warning.

He keeps silence.

It’s not like silence is something he can own; silence grasps him, every minute he is under people’s eyes. It squeezes him, pushes him down, until he is one curled ball in a shadowed corner.

He kept silence when he was found, after nearly killed by Aurors; he didn’t recall turning back into human appearance, but there he was, gasping shallowly in the rag of his once-neat suit, half-leaned, half-lied under the bottom stair of one wrecked building, eyes unfocused.

This was not his memory; all he remembered was the blocking of light, a vague figure approaching, warming hands keeping him from shifting back further, soothing voice saying “Hey, don’t worry, it’s me, you’ll soon be fine.”

It was Newt. Of course it was him; it’s Newt that told him what happened when he was found.

“You just lied there, eyes open, but didn’t move at all; I was almost sure you were dead then.”

He wonders how Newt found him; seems he was fortunate enough to change back shape, otherwise he wouldn’t be noticed.

But again, Newt has told him more than once how he was relieved when he saw the little pall of black smoke fled away; Newt can find him whatever form he is in. Newt can find and keep any creature if he wants to.

He is one of them.

He is one of the numerous creatures that Newt keeps.

Or at least that’s what he thoughts, lets himself believe, wishes to be true; can he be one of creatures Newt keeps, him, bad like that, evil like that?

He is not certain, but doesn’t dare to ask.

So he keeps silence.

-

He does not have many things to keep.

He tried to keep using the word ‘Mom’, only to be responded by scolding and beating; he can’t even keep the meaning of it, because she is a witch and they’re both evil, don’t deserve that merciful kind word. He would only stain it by saying it aloud.

After settling down at Newt's, at first he hesitates to use the word ‘Newt’. He is welcome to call the man like that, that made clear, but can’t bring himself to doing so; he fears this is something inappropriate.

He considers calling him ‘Master’, or something alike; just like what the other creatures might call.

Next time Tina came by for a visit, he consulted her.

She laughed. “Oh, I don’t know how these adorable babies call him, but last time I checked, he addressed himself as the ‘Mom’.”

That made a smile out of him, even though it failed to solve his puzzle; after a minute, he asked, “Can I now be considered ‘kept’ by him?”

The laugh turned into something soft. “Oh darling, if you just ask him, I bet he’ll be more than happy to give you an answer.”

-

In his former years of life, everything he once was able to keep, came with a price.

He had a family to hold, place to live, but with heavy work, cold shoulders, and a swinging leather belt; he got praise and comfort from Graves, only in the wake of order and dominance, him on his knees, filled with hurt and scare.

With Newt it’s like none of that.

When he came to consciousness, it was Newt who looked after him by his side. After he recovered, he gets his own room, but barely enters it; he continues to share half of Newt’s huge mattress, half of his work bench, along with a fixed seat on the dining table.

He thought about asking if Newt wanted him out. He thought about asking if Newt wanted him to stay in his suitcase.

Neither did he do.

He decided until Newt realizes, he’s gonna keep as much as he could get for now.

And in some unsettling nights, when he struggles in the dream, the past, the fear, there is always a warm torso shifting closer, slender limbs wrapping him, sleepy voice saying “Lumos!” and there comes the fluorescent light, dizzying yellow dispersing fearful dark, coaxing him back into unconsciousness.

This is way more than what he has ever kept in his life.

-

He still keeps silence most of the time, no matter how Newt encourages him.

Although he almost doesn’t talk, he is always listening; he may not react, but he understands the conversations rather quickly.

It doesn’t take long before he knows ‘keep’ has other meanings.

It scares him.

Imagining he is one of the creatures that Newt owns, that’s already luxury; how can he keep on daydreaming something unrealistic like that?

But it’s been his only wish, from day one of being another Newt’s taken-home stray cat, that Newt can keep him, allow him to live in this house, with him.

He doesn’t add ‘ever after’ because that would be another wishful thinking.

He keeps looping and looping this in his mind, until evening, on their bed, when a lying Newt turns over, rests an arm on his side.

“Something happens? You're a bit gloomy since dinner.”

He covers Newt’s hand with his own; the other man holds him closer. Newt is the same height as him, sturdy but far from bulk, yet he always feels wrapped fully, shoulder to feet, when he’s the little spoon.

“How do your creatures address you?”

“Well, most commonly, Newt. And all other variations and aliases, in accordance with their current mood and level of satisfaction to me at the moment.”

"Mom."

"What?"

He almost immediately regrets saying so, bows his head, in an effort to move away from the heat source behind and curl into a ball.

The other head shifts, perching on the shallow part of his shoulder, warm breath on his neck, making his plan in vain.

“You’re making comments now, I’m very glad. Looking forward to answer any of your further inquiries.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, only to squeeze the hand under his own.

That hand grips back.

“Good night, Credence.”

He slips into sound sleep.


End file.
